


On Your Left

by ade_wolf_97



Series: End Of The Line [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Reversed Roles - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Role Reversal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2019-05-17 19:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14838170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ade_wolf_97/pseuds/ade_wolf_97
Summary: It all happened the same way.Bucky joined the army, Steve became a super soldier and rescued Bucky from HYDRA. Bucky fell from the train, and Steve crashed the plane into the ocean.Except that it didn’t.HYDRA, or what was left of it, knew how much of an asset Steve Rogers would be. Bucky was left alone in the canyon. Steve was never frozen in ice.And everything changed.SHIELD stumbles upon James Barnes coincidentally, but they knew who he is. Upon learning his old friend is dead, Barnes takes up the mantle of Captain America. HYDRA has Steve Rogers in their clutches. He doesn’t even question it when he’s sent to kill the man he doesn’t know used to be his best friend.Bucky never considered Steve had survived the plane crash. Steve never considered that Bucky even knows he exists. And when their paths finally cross, neither of them considered it would end like this.





	1. Author’s Note

Hey all! I recently came up with this fanfic idea. Due to some extremely high demand on Pinterest (not even joking)...

< https://www.pinterest.com/pin/513128951288494476/ >

...I have been forced (not really) to write it!!! So, here we go.

 

I’ve decided that this story isn’t going to follow the MCU storyline as much. For example, aspects of the movies will be changed and specific characters will be introduced sooner rather than later (or vice versa). Or maybe certain events that happened in the MCU won’t happen here. One thing I _can_ guarantee is that tons of stuff will happen in this story that did _not_ happen in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Anyway, once I get the first chapter up, I hope you enjoy!

EDIT 03.11.19: I think I’m finally gonna decide to keep working on this one. Wish me luck y’all!


	2. One - Ice And Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They fall.  
> They wake up.  
> And nothing is the same as it was before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally. At long last. After SUCH. A long. Time. I’ve finally finished this chapter.  
> It took a while simply because I was taking a much needed mental break, and focusing on school, my personal life, and all of that. I eventually decided I’d revisit and try to hit this story again, so. Here we go. I hope you like this long overdue chapter!

It’s cold, that much is clear. So cold that the edges of his fingers are tingly and numb. So cold his ears ache. So cold it could almost contradict the heat like fire at his left shoulder and collarbone.

His eyes are squeezed closed and his breaths are coming in short, stuttering gasps. He’s scared, and he’s in pain. Those are two things he’s sure of. Those, and, of course, the fact that Stevie had looked horrified when he’d been trying to come to the rescue. When his hands had slipped from the ice on the bar stabbing his sweating palms. Steve had looked as scared as he felt. As he still feels.

The wind caused by his rapid descent stabs into his back, wraps around him like icy tendrils pulling him faster towards the ground. He doesn’t know why his left shoulder is in such a blinding, white hot pain, or why he can’t seem to get his arm to move. There’s so much pain that whenever he thinks about it, his breath gets caught in his throat and his heartbeat quickens.

That’s when he finally opens his eyes. The sky is bright, midday sunlight streaming into the canyon and scarce clouds out of view from the rocky walls. Everything around him is covered in a sheen of snow and ice. His eyes then land on the track where he’d been holding on for dear life only a moment ago, where his survival instincts had failed him. The train’s gone, and with it, Steve.

Steve, who had tried so hard to rescue him. Who had continued to persist even when he’d been neglected from joining the army because of his uncharacteristic need to help people. The sick kid with so many diseases who only wanted to help the world, as if he’d been born into the wrong body. Sure, he’d undergone some experiment conducted by Howard Stark, but that wasn’t reassuring at all. For all anyone knows, the effects could wear off, and then where would Steve be?

Same place as before, probably. Steve won’t let anything stop him, especially his diseases. It’s taken years of convincing Steve that not every fight is a fight he can win and, even then, he never passes up the chance to exchange a few fists in return for someone’s honor. It’s impossible to count how many times the two of them have stumbled into Steve’s mother’s house after he’s rescued Steve from a fight, and ended up getting beaten to a pulp himself, and she’s had to take care of them. She’ll scold them, of course, but she always thanks him before he leaves and when Steve is out of earshot.  _ My baby probably wouldn’t be alive right now if it weren’t for you. _

And then when Steve was declined from joining the army, tried to sign up again at another location, and had to be dragged away and back home before the next day arrived because he’d now have to fend for himself. No-One to fend for him anymore, because he’d been accepted, but Steve hadn’t. And they made a promise to each other that day. A promise that they would both survive, that they would come back home,  _ both of them _ _._ That they would be there ‘till the end of the line.

This must be the end of the line, he muses, letting his eyes drift closed once more. For him, at least. Falling down a canyon from a train where his best friend is likely devastated—no, that’s not the right word. Anguished? Or something like that. He’d not sure anyone could feel true  _anguish_   over him, although he certainly would were he in Steve’s place.

When the world finally speeds back up, he doesn’t notice. He’s numb, lost in thought. He doesn’t notice the canyon walls getting gradually taller, or the sun disappearing. He doesn’t notice when his hairs stand on end before he finally hits.

And it doesn’t hurt when he does.

Not that he can tell. The only thing he  can tell is that  _ he  didn’t hit solid ground . _

He’s landed smack in the middle of an icy river, and he’s still  _alive_ . When the realization hits, he desperately tries to swim towards the surface and any land nearby, but his body won’t listen. He barely manages to break the surface and stay afloat, legs kicking frantically. He can’t move his left arm—

He would gag were it not for the water lapping up into his face, but the shocked widening of his eyes is enough to suffice. This has to be some horror movie. Some strange, impossible joke being played on him, or something, dear God, because his left arm isn’t there.

The surprise hits him head on and he passes out for a brief second, but it doesn’t take long for his body to snap back to attention. His eyes fly open and this time, they sting, as does his throat when he tries to inhale and realizes he can’t breathe. Of course you can’t, genius. You’re underwater. He attempts to kick his legs and propel himself towards safety once more, but Mother Nature and the world itself seem to have taken up a grudge against him, as the instant he breaks the surface, a large rock shooting past in the rapid current makes contact with his throbbing head.

He barely has time to think before his world is enveloped in black, and everything fades away into nothing. 

***

He knew what he was signing up for when he boarded the plane. He knew Red Skull wasn’t going to show any mercy. From what he knows of HYDRA, and the Nazis, none of them would.

If he were asked to be honest, he would admit that he hasn’t quite been in his right mind since the train. The one that was supposed to be a simple apprehension mission. To capture a nearly solitary member of HYDRA for their benefit. And it ended with his best friend falling off the train into the canyon.

He must’ve felt something like this, if he was awake as he was falling. Well. If he wasn’t screaming the whole way down, like any logical person would. Just moments ago, he had been reflecting on everything he’d done good in life. Standing up to all those bullies only to get beaten himself, but defending the honor of those that may not have admitted to needing it themselves. Joining the army to fight for his country after sacrificing himself to a rich scientist for dangerous experiment with unknown risks. Becoming Captain America and encouraging people, soldiers and citizens of the country alike. Saving Bucky.

And losing him. Now, flashing before his eyes are memories of everything he feels guilty of in his life. Everything he feels he did wrong. And that one is at the top of his liar. Failing to save his best friend even with his super strength and inhuman abilities. His best friend who had defended him and saved his life on so many occasions, and he’d been incapable of returning the favor.

He’ll easily express his genuine feelings at the idea of the plane hitting the ice below; it freaks him out, and he knows it’s inevitable. Look on the bright side, he tells himself. You always wanted to die fighting for your country.

_But I didn’t want to die without Bucky at my side._

His eyes wander over the nearing horizon and he can’t hold back the feeling of slight distress. Distress that’s turning slowly into compliance and acceptance. At least he’s going down fighting. That’s how he wanted it to end, right?And he’s saving lives.

Even so, he can’t shake the dread and fear that waft over him in varying degrees each moment. All those years standing up to bullies and jerks twice his side and he’s scared of a plane crash. He scoffs. And then his features soften.

Had Bucky been having these thoughts as he fell? Thinking about what he could’ve done better in life? All the times he was too late in the situation of an alley fight? Or when the bullies overpowered him?

No, of course he hadn’t. It’s Bucky. Bucky, who was never without a grin on his face. Even when he’d been in captivity, as soon as help had arrived, he was smiling. Even after he’d been beaten up trying to protect his scrawny friend, he smiled.

He furiously wipes away the tear that slips down his cheek at that thought. Unmanly, anyone else in his squad would say. Real men don’t cry.  _It doesn’t make you any less of a man to cry, pal. It just means that you show emotion. And ain’t that a good thing?_

His eyes snap open suddenly when he both hears and  _feels_ the plane make contact with the ice. He fails to hold back the strangled sound in the back of his throat as he holds his shield to his chest.

But the pain he’s expecting never comes.It when he’s thrown from his seat after the impact. Not when he slams into the console at the front of the plane. Not when he’s left dazed in the floor, staring straight above.

He lets loose a breath when he hears water beginning to press through the damages walls and windows. Then his eyes fall closed, and he becomes completely unaware of everything around him. Only one thought is left in his mind.

_ At least I’ll see Bucky again . _

***

James Buchanan Barnes is thrashing before he even knows he’s awake. The last thing he can remember is falling. Falling, and hitting icy water—

And not dying.

A panicked gasp escapes his lips as his eyes snap open. The room he’s in is dark; bleak, black walls, dark gray ceiling, a light directly above his head. He can’t see much other than that—his vision is extremely blurry for some reason. His senses appear to be slowly coming back to him; he’s starting to hear something happening around him, and taste the dryness of his mouth and lips. It smells cold—as if his sense of scent is muffled, and the tip of his nose is frozen. Like the snowy winter days he and Steve used to take walks on.

And then his sense of touch and feeling comes back. And the pain hits him like a brick wall.

Bucky’s left shoulder is on fire; a white bit sensation taking over his senses and now he can’t smell, or taste, or hear anymore. He knows he’s shaking, and gasping for breath, likely from shock or something. 

A hand suddenly falls on his opposite shoulder, and his instinct forcefully tells him to lash out. He panics, shoving the hand away.

His hearing comes back with a sharp ringing in both ears, followed by he sounds of voices above him. They sound desperate, frantic. One almost sounds vaguely familiar, but only for a second before it sounds like a complete stranger once more. 

With a past as a soldier, being held down by a stranger who could be dangerous means only one thing.

Attack and escape, because they could want information, and that’s the last thing they get. So if escape is impossible, tell them nothing other than three things.

“James Buchanan Barnes, sergeant... three two five five seven oh three, eight five six eight—nine eight...”

His voice sounds strangely hoarse, as if it hasn’t been used for a long time, or he’s just been coughing and hasn’t cleared his throat yet. The other people speak again, and he can make out the words this time. “He thinks he’s being held captive.” A pause, and then— “Agent! Take your hand off his shoulder!”

A mumbled apology sounds right next to him before the pressure on his arm disappears. His eyes finally begin attempting to focus as he realizes he’s not actually being held down. His instinct yells at him again, this time telling him to fight back. So that’s what he does.

Bucky lashes out, grabbing the person that was just holding him down by the wrist and using the momentum to pull himself to his feet. The man yelps in alarm and Bucky swings him over the table, sending him careening across the floor.

His eyes shoot to the door that he can faintly see on a wall to his left and he realizes that he has to  _get the hell out of here._ The man he just shoved to the floor is scrambling back to his feet. “What the hell?” He shouts out in surprise.

Bucky launches beck over the table, feet hitting the laminate flooring and firmly planting on the surface. He turns, grabbing the man by the collar and punching him, hard. The man splutters in surprise but Bucky doesn’t allow him time for a second thought before he’s being sent crashing back to the floor.

The other man takes a quick step in his direction, not attacking but holding his fists up in a warning. Bucky mentally recalls his self defense courses when he started having to defend Steve in dark alleyways. He counts off the steps in his mind and sends a punch to his face before stepping back for a few seconds. Another punch, this time to his stomach, and then when he’s moved back once more, he throws a kick at the man’s knees, sending him sprawling backward. Bucky deals one final blow to the man’s head, and he finally hits the ground.

Bucky senses another presence behind him and whips around, pulling his arm back in preparation for an attack—

—When he sees that the presence is a woman. Her right hand is held up, palm out, and her left rests on her utility belt. Her eyes meet Bucky’s, and he can feel his stance falter slightly. The sudden movement makes her tense, strands of red hair swishing last her face as her left hand moves into a ready position. “We’re not here to hurt you, James,” she says smoothly. Her voice is gentle, calm, as if to portray that she isn’t a threat. “We’re just trying to help.”

Bucky’s gaze wanders to her hand that remains resting on the weapon at her belt. She seems to notice his discomfort as her hand is quick to join the other in the air. “Who at you?” Bucky’s voice wavers.

Her features are cautious yet soft as she speaks next. “I’m Agent Natasha Romanoff.” Her hands slowly fall from the air as her eyes search over his form. “You’re in a SHIELD base, we’re here to help.”

Bucky’s tense arms finally relax and his hands lower—albeit slowly—to his sides. “SHIELD? What’s that?” He can hear the slight shake in his voice.

Natasha gives him a small, warm smile. Bucky takes that instance to examine her. Average height at a few inches below him, with king red hair that stands out against her pale skin. She’s attired with a full black uniform, a belt at her waist buckled with a symmetrical red hourglass shape. On her belt are several small gadgets that Bucky doesn’t recognize. He focuses his attention back on her words as she answers his question. “We’re a semi-secret society founded by Margaret Carter in the 1940’s,” she says carefully, eyes clearly studying him to see how he responds.

“Margaret Carter?” He repeats, furrowing his brow and faltering somewhat. “You mean the agent from the war? Peggy? The girl that made Steve Rogers swoon in public?”

That’s a memory he won’t ever forget. Steve had never found a girl that he thought he wanted to spend his life with, not until he met her.

_“Awe, Buck, look at ‘er. Can’t believe she’d even take a second glance at me.”_

_A roll of the eyes. “Really? Have you seen the way she looks at you?”_

_No response, and Bucky turns to see Steve let out a sigh, continuing to stare. Bucky grins. “Don’t you faint on me, pal. I may have been able to carry you home before but have you looked in the mirror recently?”_

He’s shaken out of his thoughts when Natasha chuckles lightly. “That’s what I’ve heard.”

“Where is she?” Bucky tries to ignore how demanding his tone sounds. “Where’s Steve?”

Natasha suddenly looks somewhat uncomfortable and averts her gaze. Bucky takes a step toward her and she, in turn, steps back. “James...”

Bucky already knows what she’s about to say. He stumbles back a step, turning away from her and pulling at his hair. “Oh, God—“ A slight pause. “What the hell happened?”

Natasha is quiet for a moment. “James, I don’t think you should—“

She’s cut off when he whips around and grabs the fabric of her uniform. Her eyes widen in surprise. “What happened?” He asks again, harshly this time.

“Please, hear me out.” Bucky pretends to ignore the throbbing pain in his shoulder that got gradually worse when he spun around. “It’s been seventy years since he died. He—“

Bucky shoves her away. “What kind of sick game is this?” The violent movement sends spots to the edges of his vision, causing him to inhale sharply.

A sudden hand falls on his right shoulder—likely one of the men from before—and he turns sharply, wrenching himself from the grip. Before he can think, he’s barreling towards the door. “James, Wait!” Natasha calla after him, and he can faintly hear the footsteps following behind as he bolts down the hallway.

He barely makes it ten steps before a bout of dizziness overtakes him, spotting his vision out for a few seconds and causing him to stumble into the wall. The footsteps slow, Natasha nearing him with obvious caution. She says something, likely his name again, but he doesn’t hear it over the blood pounding in his ears. Breathing heavily, he pushes away from the wall managing to make it a bit further down the corridor. He squeezes his eyes closed, shaking his head in an attempt to rid himself of the fatigue. When he opens them again, he’s welcomed with clear vision—as well as a window view of the world outside. 

Bucky’s eyes fly wide.

The streets are filled with cars—ones that he can tell are locomotives, but that look nothing like the ones he used to see or drive. Tall skyscrapers tower around, moving screens attached to them or standing near them. They look somewhat like televisions, or the screens movies would be projected on, but that’s impossible because from what he can tell, the entire backside where the technology is stored is missing.

He’s frozen in place, even when Natasha finally catches up with him. She pauses for a moment, glancing around Bucky as someone enters the hallway from the other side, then she looks at him. “1940 was seventy-two years ago.”

Bucky hesitates, eyes trailing on the world outside before he turns to look at her. He’s distracted when he sees the man approaching from the other end of the hall. “Wow, I leave for two minutes and all hell breaks loose.”

Bucky’s eyes grow wide, because that’s the voice he thought he recognized in the room only a few minutes ago. And not only that, but the person looks  _exactly_ like— “Howard Stark?”

The man pauses, blinking in surprise. Natasha seems to tense at the comment, and the man holds up a hand to keep her from stepping forward. He turns to Bucky. “Howard Stark was my father.” He allows a sly grin to grow into his face, extending a hand that Bucky hesitantly takes. “My name’s Tony. And this,” he gestures to the world outside the window, “is the twenty-first century. Welcome to the year of 2012, James Barnes.”

***

The tingling sensation in his fingers feels familiar. That’s one thing he can pick out from the small bits of information floating around in his brain. He also knows that the tingling means something bad. But he doesn’t know why. It’s just a feeling, deep in his subconscious, and it’s screaming at him. Telling him that something is wrong.

The thoughts are chased away when his eyes slowly drift open. He doesn’t recognize the world around him, or the couch speaking next to him. The voice—baritone, accented and speaking German—is saying a long list of words. And those, he does recognize.

They mean this man is his handler.

“Soldier, stand,” the man orders.

He’s quick to respond, steadily getting to his feet and standing at attention. The man steps out in front of him. Examining him, he can pick out a few small details in the dim light. He’s short, several inches below his own height, and he’s dressed in a suit with a tie. He’s watching him intently, staring him down with a commanding gaze. “Your name is Steve. You will not answer to it,” he says, emitting a nod in response. “You will follow any orders given to you by myself or others you are told to obey. You are an agent, the Captain HYDRA. Do you understand, Soldier?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve responds, remaining still in his attentive position.

The handler nods, allowing him to stand in compliance for a moment before beckoning him forward. “Someone from the past of our organization has recently reappeared. He was nearly our downfall many years ago at the side of his leader, and now, he has returned. His name is James Barnes. The world currently knows him as Captain America. He will be your next mission.” The man types on a device and holds up the screen for Steve to view. “This is his appearance. He is often seen in areas of Manhattan and New York City.” He swipes the screen, bringing up a set of two images. One is a man dressed in a suit with an eyepatch covering his left eye. The other is a woman with red hair and attired with a black uniform. “This man is known as Nick Fury. He is a passable asset, unimportant to us. Feel free to eliminate him along with the target. This woman is often seen with Barnes. She goes by the name of Natasha Romanoff. She is not to be killed, but injuries are insignificant. Your job is to take down Barnes at any cost.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve acknowledges. “The mission will be completed with haste.”

The comment induced a nod of approval. Silence hangs I the air for a moment, Steve remaining stoic and straight in posture.

_Why are you listening to him?_

He only barely hears that thought before the handler cuts in again. “Your uniform is in the room to your left. Weapons, to your right. Get equipped, you have five minutes.”

He salutes, announcing his confirmation before spinning on his heel and stalking into the first room. As soon as he’s out of sight, his expression fades. His muscles relax, but he still feels tense. Something still seems wrong.

He stares at himself in the floor-length mirror, examining the pale blue eyes looking back at him, and the blond strands of hair hanging in suspension in front of them. He’s almost scared at how he doesn’t recognize the face he sees.

But he’s even more afraid at the fact that the face he  _does_ recognize is the one of the man he’s just been told he has to kill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it!  
> I hope this was everything you wished it to be.  
> Also I was so excited to get this up that is don’t proofread so feel free to shout at me if there’s grammar or spelling errors.  
> And not all of the chapters will be this long. I kinda got carried away with this one... hahaha  
> Anyway, I’ll see you around! Thanks for reading!


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